


Obsidian

by templeandarche



Category: Roswell (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:02:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templeandarche/pseuds/templeandarche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine for a moment that a lifetime ago Vilondra really did betray Zan, Ava and Rath. Not just for love of a man, but for her own thirst for power. And what would happen if that man, Khivar, woke her from her slumber?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything affiliated with the show Roswell or it’s characters. They belong to their respective creators (Metz and Katims) and not to my poor self.

She sleeps, and I _awaken._

Here, in dreams and fantasies where my greatest power lies, I crawl around inside her head like a spider, spinning my hateful and poisonous web and clouding her thoughts with my venomous hate.

Too long I have waited, lost and shifting, unable to bring myself to the surface. I lay trapped inside the head of this poor adolescent facsimile of the woman I once was. Born to greatness and loved by all and yet underestimated by those foolish enough to see only the splendor of my perfect visage; with the tilt of my head and a wanton smile I made the hearts of many my own.

I’ve played so many parts, and worn such different faces.

Sister and Betrayer.

Wife and Adulterer.

Patriot and Traitor.

I’ve been reviled and revered across two galaxies. Unlike my naïve brother, I knew what was needed to rule the five planets. And only I possessed the iron will and devious mind that would have led our people to greatness.

I could have, had I not been born a woman.

The irony of it, really. I was my father’s daughter in every way, born first and shining brighter than my weaker sibling. My brother Zan had always ruled with his heart… and other parts of him that the blood rushed to. But because he was a man, he was chosen to sit at the head of the Council’s table and I was delegated to the role of decorative ornament and bargaining chip for peace in our realm.

I was wasted on a barbarian like Rath. He only lusted after the power I could give him and the pleasure he demanded from my body. A warrior to the marrow, he was good for few things aside from following the King’s orders. And like any good soldier he had the stamina to last battle after battle, especially those that took place behind closed doors.

It’s a pity that our Earth clones never knew that pleasure. Things may have turned out differently had destiny had its way again.

Or perhaps not.

Things are not always what they seem, something that rings true in any star system.

She stirs, troubled while deep in her dreams. She feels my presence slide over her like the skillful fingers of an attentive lover. My power over her grows every moment.

 _Isabel_ …

It will be soon.

 _Wake up, Isabel._


	2. Chapter 2

_I've become  
A simple souvenir of someone's kill  
And like the sea  
I'm constantly changing from calm to ill  
Madness fills my heart and soul as if the great divide could swallow me whole  
oh, how I'm breaking down _

~ Sleeping Sickness by City and Colour

 

The bright sun peeked through the threadbare curtains covering the dingy windows, leaving a slim sliver of light across the form of the young woman who lay in the middle of the bed that dwarfed the simple room.

She tossed and turned fitfully, worn cotton sheets covering a body to thin for her above-average height, long golden hair gleaming in the morning radiance.

Full, rose-tinted lips murmured unintelligible, panicked words; whatever she dreamed was dark. Threatening, even.

Her mouth parted on a sharp gasp as she bucked her shoulders towards the cracked plaster ceiling. Brown eyes opened wide and startled, blinking rapidly as if trying to flee the images of whatever demons that had followed her out of her nightmares.

Harsh and ragged breaths punctured the silence of the enclosed room. With her heart still pounding in her ears, she pulled the blankets closer like a child who still believed that a favourite comforter was a shield against the boogeyman that lurked beneath the bed.

"Jesse!" she half sobbed into the emptiness. Tears pooled and threatened to leave their mark across her beautiful features. She lifted a hand, curled her fingers into a fist and bit back the cries that erupted from deep within.

"Why won't you let me in?"

~*~

She wiped the steam from the mirror and gazed unflinchingly at the reflection that stared back. Purple circles, so dark they appeared as bruises under wide, doe eyes. Her hair was a limp, wet trail down her back. Where lush curves once were, now sharp angles poked up at pale skin stretched too far across a body that telegraphed a lack of interest in food.

Isabel looked and felt like utter crap.

Clutching the towel tighter against her skin, Isabel ignored the sad sight before her. So what if this existence wasn’t the normalcy she so craved during her life in Roswell? She was alive, as were her brothers. Her parents were safe, and they had accepted her alien lineage. She still had friends with her in Liz, Maria and Kyle.

Isabel knew she should be grateful for what blessings she possessed. But sometimes, when Liz's eyes shone when she looked at Max or when Maria grumbled good naturedly at Michael, she couldn't keep the jealously and utter loneliness she felt at bay. It was such a hard road to travel being on the run from the secret government alien extermination squads hell bent on destroying her and those she loved above all else. Forever moving from one spot to the next, always hiding in the shadows.

It had been a barely tolerable existence when she had been able to dreamwalk Jesse. In dreams she'd seen his face, heard those words she needed so desperately to spill from his perfect mouth. Isabel had been able to actually feel the love she craved in that hazy night time realm.

But now there was nothing.

Doubt and fear had replaced her hope at their love enduring this separation. For weeks now there was only a bleak void when she reached out to him.

She could still sense his essence, the very thing that identified Jesse as her Jesse, the part of him that stood out from all others when she used her ability to navigate dreams. He was alive and healthy she could tell and still somewhere in Boston. Anything else was unknown. He was blocking her nocturnal visits somehow, clamping down on the connection they shared. While their bond was nowhere near as strong as Max and Liz's was, Isabel and Jesse shared a link that made the miles between them seem to disappear.

Until he stopped meeting her in his dreams.

It seemed that Isabel had lost Jesse, just like Alex had been torn from her life. The day that Kyle's father had come into the Crashdown to tell the pod squad that Alex had been killed had deadened a part of Isabel. She had clung to the hope that her brother could bring him back, and had watched in tearful disbelief as Max couldn't save the boy she realized she had truly loved too late.

She had grieved so much for him. After the funeral it seemed that everywhere she turned she saw his smiling face. Isabel could literally feel his hand holding hers as his thumb gently caressed her flesh and she swore she even heard his laughter ring in her ears. It was a blessing and a curse, this bond she shared with her dead lover. Some days she felt full of peace with his presence surrounding her. Others were spent in bed crying for hours when she'd admit to herself that Alex really was dead, his body in a box buried deep in the earth. The boy she spoke with was only a figment of her broken heart and damaged psyche.

He was truly gone.

Life had become a bleak existence of grey skies and bitter nights. It was almost too much for the alien princess to get out bed and face each new day that followed after Alex had left this world. Then one day the handsome new lawyer in her father's firm noticed her at the annual picnic she had been dragged to by her concerned parents who hated seeing their daughter so sad all the time. His name was Jesse Rameriz and he was much older and so confident with his pretty mouth and dark eyes that roamed appreciatively over her tight shirt. When he shook her hand Isabel felt the tingle in her belly and the heat rise in her cheeks. Jesse grinned charmingly at her and in that moment she was lost.

On the surface, he appeared to be a complete opposite of Alex. Jesse was so confident, with his expensive suits and the way he could order the perfect bottle of wine to match their meal at The Eiffel while Alex could stammer sometimes in her presence and preferred orange soda with every thing he ate. But from the start she sensed an innate goodness in him that reminded her of the boy she lost too soon.

Isabel had let Alex go and moved on with her life, only to have it spin out of control in a series of events that left her and the others far from Roswell. The government agents that had stalked her alien family made their play during the high school graduation ceremony. Thanks to Liz's glimpses of the future they'd gotten away safely, escaping into the night in an old VW van Jesse had given them - a final gift to the wife it seemed he would never see again.

She fought back the misery as the memories of a boy taken much too soon and the man she never had the chance to fully love flooded her mind.

Opening a drawer, she rifled through disposable razors and half used tubes of toothpaste, pushing aside other junk until she found her hairbrush. She folded the towel tighter underneath her arms and ran the brush through her damp locks, wincing repeatedly at the tangles that came from washing with cheap shampoo.

She tried to ignore the tattered version of herself that stood in the reflection before her. Sometimes it was hard to look when so much had changed her both inside and out. She'd grown her hair out long again and turned the deep brown back to the honey blonde the boys at Roswell High had loved so much. Her eyes were still hers, only now they always seemed lost and tired, so goddamned sad, even when she smiled. Isabel knew she'd lost too much weight; it was apparent in the pronounced collarbones that jutted out and in the high arch of cheekbones she never knew she had.

It was always the hardest in the mornings, having to drag her sleeping mind away from dreams that normally led her to Jesse or her parents. Brief snatches of paradise where the people she missed the most in the world were at her side. But it always ended too soon, when the sun crept over the horizon. Sighing, she continued trying to tame her hair, counting the strokes softly under her breath.

The twin in the mirror smirked at her distress. "What did you expect, Isabel? No human will ever be safe in your world. You are a Queen meant for a King, not some lousy lawyer or computer nerd. Embrace your destiny."

The brush fell from suddenly-lax fingers, the pink plastic smacking loudly on the weathered linoleum. Her own reflection stared back at her, eyes wide and fearful.

She rubbed a hand across her face. "God Isabel, you're losing it." Shaking her head, she bent down to retrieve the fallen hair brush, than stopped mid-motion as an eerie laugh filled her ears while the steamy bathroom grew cold. Straightening slowly, she glanced once more into the mirror before her.

At Isabel's disbelieving gasp the image before her wavered and its beauty turned dark; a blood red mouth twisted into a grimace as eyes of obsidian gleamed in the poor fluorescent lighting and a claw like hand lunged for her face.

She swallowed a scream and jerked back from the bathroom counter, her right hand raising up to defend even as her back smashed into the towel bar. Ignoring the pain, she closed her eyes and counted slowly to five, and with each number her heart beat slowed back to its natural rhythm.

She blinked once then again as she looked before her. Her cruel, evil twin had disappeared from view, all that appeared in the looking glass was her own form, still damp from the shower and draped in the worn cotton. Isabel's mouth was parted slightly as her chest rose and fell again in rapid waves. She tried to still the slight tremor that ran through her entire being.

Her mind was playing tricks on her. That could be the only rational explanation. Sleepless nights and stress-filled days had led to some sort of hallucination. Too bad she couldn't risk going to a therapist. Maybe she could dreamwalk one.

Then she noticed the red welts, five separate angry scratches that marred her porcelain skin from beneath her ear down the side of her neck.

"Oh god!" she moaned, her features frozen in shock. Her ears rang as again the sound of malicious laughter filled the room.

The mirror exploded and shards of glass rained down around her. She screamed and threw her hands up to protect her face. Her knees shook and the world seemed to spin as she sank to the floor. Isabel clasped her hands to each side of her face, so intent on keeping the maniacal glee from registering that she didn't see the sharp, glittering pieces that bit into her skin and didn't feel the glass cut deep into her legs and feet.

All she wanted was freedom from the voice that sounded in her head.

~*~

Isabel fidgeted with the neck of her shirt, pulling at the warm, bulky material of her turtleneck as the scratches burned their way down her neck. It had been a week since her incident (what else could she call her slight mental breakdown?) and she knew the others noticed the strange choice in clothing she was sporting. She had draped herself in clothing completely unsuited to the summer climate; Michael's old sweatshirts or her wool sweaters with high collars. Anything that would cover the weird marks on her skin was all the rage in her wardrobe these past few days.

She had used her powers to put the bathroom mirror back to the way it was; with a wave of her hand, her alien gifts had the shattered glass put back together like the pieces of a puzzle. The cuts on her body had been trickier, since she'd never possessed Max's talent for healing. Isabel had made the shallower wounds disappear and had wound acres of gauze around the few that would've been deep enough to require medical attention had she been human.

It wasn't easy avoiding five other people in a three bedroom apartment. With each stiff movement or pained expression she cowered inwardly, terrified that the others would notice and start to question her strange behavior.

Max and Liz were the easiest to fool. While they noticed her skittish temperament and her odd clothing choices they were still after all newlyweds. Isabel's weak excuses were nearly believable and very, very easy to accept when you looked through the hazy veil that covered all happy lovers' sight.

Michael had his hands full with Maria and their constant bickering. Time and distance from Roswell hadn't changed their relationship in any way. If anything, the constant time spent together was putting strain on the couple. The lousy jobs serving for long hours weren't helping much either.

The main problem was Kyle.

Since they were the only two people not immersed in the highs and lows of coupledom, the downtime from the crappy part-time employment they had managed to secure was often spent together. Most days Isabel looked forward to the bad movies Kyle made her watch or the early mornings spent sipping coffee in the tiny kitchen before Kyle headed to his job and she hers. But being so close, living in such cramped and impersonal quarters every day, had made them attuned to the others moods and feelings. Isabel knew without asking when Kyle was missing his father, just as he could gauge when Jesse was on her mind.

He knew something wasn't right. It was visible in every concerned glance he sent her way and each unspoken remark on her shaky demeanor. And she wasn't sure how much longer she could hide the nightly dreams that left her shaken and disturbed. Even as a hybrid who didn't need as much sleep as Maria or even Liz would, Isabel was barely functioning. She'd taken up running again, rising earlier and earlier every day to jog, hoping the physical exertion would make her mind rest peacefully at night. So far it wasn't working.

The same thing haunted her sleep. A voice she knew yet couldn't place whispered deep hidden hates and doubts. Painful memories she'd learned to keep buried were viewed in Technicolor. And always the same form, its eyes so dark they looked deeper than the blackest night stalked her, laughing at her fear.

For as long as she could remember her dreams had been her refuge. Her power had granted her a nightly escape from the turmoil of her life. Being able to dreamwalk kept her sharp. Kept her sane.

And now, for the first time in her life, Isabel was afraid to dream.

She was even more afraid that whatever was lurking inside her would be there when she awoke.


End file.
